A sylvan spot! with woods---with waters crown'd, With all the rural honours blooming round!
This little but commodious seat
(Where Nature weds with Art)
A'nt to the eye superbly great;
Its beauties charm the heart.
Here may the happy founder and his race
Pass their full days in harmony and peace!
AN EULOGIUM ON MASONRY.
SPOKEN BY MR. DIGGES AT EDINBURGH.
SAY, can the garter or the star of state,
That on the vain or on the vicious wait,
Such emblems with such emphasis impart
As an insignium near the Mason's heart?
Hail, sacred Masonry! of source divine,
Unerring mistress of the faultless line!
Whose plumb of truth with never-failing sway
Makes the join'd parts of symmetry obey.
Hail to the Craft! at whose serene command
The gentle Arts in glad obedience stand;
Whose magic stroke bids fell Confusion cease,
And to the finish'd Orders yield its place;
Who calls creation from the womb of earth,
And gives imperial cities glorious birth,
To works of art her merit's not confin'd;
She regulates the morals, squares the mind;
Corrects with care the tempest-working soul,
And points the tide of passions where to roll;
On Virtue's tablets marks each sacred rule,
And forms her Lodge an universal school,
Where Nature's mystic laws unfolded stand,
And Sense and Science join'd go hand in hand.
O! may her social rules instructive spread
Till Truth erect her long neglected head;
Till thro' deceitful Night she dart her ray,
And beam full glorious in the blaze of day!
Till man by virtuous maxims learn to move,
Till all the peopled world her laws approve,
And the whole human race be bound in Brothers'
AN EULOGIUM ON CHARITY.
SPOKEN AT ALNWICK IN NORTHUMBERLAND,
At a Charitable Benefit Play, 1765.
To bid the rancour of Ill-fortune cease;
To tell anxiety---I give thee peace;
To quell Adversity---or turn her darts;
To stamp Fraternity on gen'rous hearts:
For these high motives---these illustrious ends,
Celestial Charity to-night descends.
Soft are the graces that adorn the maid,
Softer than dew-drops to the sun-burnt glade!
She's gracious as an unpolluted stream,
And tender as a fond young lover's dream:
Pity and Peace precede her as she flies,
And Mercy beams benignant in her eyes:
From her high residence, from realms above,
She comes, sweet harbinger of heavenly love!
Her sister's charms are more than doubly bright
From the kind cause that call'd her here to-night.
An artless grace the conscious heart bestows,
And on the gen'rous cheek a tincture glows
More lovely than the bloom that paints the vernal
The lofty pyramid shall cease to live;
Fleeting the praise such monuments can give!
But Charity, by tyrant Time rever'd,
Sweet Charity! amidst his ruins spar'd,
Secures her votaries unblasted fame,
And in celestial annals saves their name.
The Countess of Northumberland, who honoured the Charity with her presence.
Including the Characters of the particular Company that frequented Mr. Buxton's elegant Country-house at Weston, the Family intending for London.
COME, Daphne! as the widow'd turtle true,
Foremost in grief, conduct the mournful crew!
Come, Delia! beauteous as the new-born Spring,
With song more soft than raptur'd angels sing:
Let Thyrsis in the bloom of summer's pride
With folded arms walk pensive by her side.
Clarinda! come, like rosy Morning fair,
Thy form as beauteous as thy heart's sincere,
On her shall Cimon gaze with rude delight,
Till polish'd by her charms he grows polite.
Dorinda next---her gay good humour fled,
With silent steps and grief-dejected head!
Palemon! see, his tuneless harp unstrung
Is on the willow-boughs neglected hung!
Come, Cælia! sigh'd for by unnumber'd swains:
Rosetta! pride of the extended plains:
With Phillis, whose unripen'd charms display
A dawn that promises the future day.
With cypress crown'd, to Weston's groves repair;
The conscious shades shall witness our despair:
To vales, and lawns, and woodlands, late so gay,
Where in sweet converse we were wont to stray,
The joys we've lost in plaintive numbers tell,
And bid the social seat a long farewell!
AN APOLOGY
FOR A CERTAIN LADY.
To an old dotard's wretched arms betray'd,
The wife (miscall'd) is but a widow'd maid.
Young, and impatient at her wayward lot,
If the dull rules of duty are forgot,
Whatever ills from her defection rise,
The parent's guilty who compell'd the ties.
AN INTRODUCTION.
SPOKEN AT THE THEATRE IN SUNDERLAND,
To a Play performed there for the Benefit of the Widows and Orphans of that place.
ON Widows---Orphans---left, alas! forlorn
(From the rack'd heart its ev'ry comfort torn)
Humanity to-night confers relief,
And softens, tho' she can't remove, their grief.
Blasted her hopes, her expectations kill'd,
The sons of Sympathy with sorrow chill'd,
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